


Sui Generis

by babykid528, thatmysticbafflingwonder (babykid528)



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [25]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhaustion, Feels, Hair Washing, Law School, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Power Dynamics, Secret Relationship, Size Kink, Sleep Deprivation, Studying, Teacher-Student Relationship, bloody nose, hints of Daddy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:23:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528, https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/thatmysticbafflingwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Alex has been awake for days. Weeks maybe? Years, even. He’s lost track. Completely lost track. He has... what is it? Con Law? Civ Pro? Crim Pro? Something Pro??? Whatever the subject is, he has a fucking midterm tomorrow. The fifth and final one in the span of three days. The fact that every day, every exam, is beginning to blur into one isn’t a good sign. It’s not a good sign at all. But there’s little Alex can do other than soldier forward, ever onward, in the noble pursuit of this profession that he’s determined to master, just to prove he can.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>No one will ever say the law beat Alexander Hamilton.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sui Generis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rabidchild67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/gifts).



> RC asked for Whamilton hair washing from the [non-sexual intimacy prompt list](http://thatmysticbafflingwonder.tumblr.com/post/141847397956/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the) I reblogged on tumblr, so, naturally, a law school AU was born... I don't even ask anymore. Just let it happen. :-P

Alex has been awake for days. Weeks maybe? Years, even. He’s lost track. Completely lost track. He has... what is it? Con Law? Civ Pro? Crim Pro?  _Something Pro_??? Whatever the subject is, he has a fucking midterm tomorrow. The fifth and final one in the span of three days. The fact that every day, every exam, is beginning to blur into one isn’t a good sign. It’s not a good sign at all. But there’s little Alex can do other than soldier forward, ever onward, in the noble pursuit of this profession that he’s determined to master, just to prove he can.

No one will ever say the law beat Alexander Hamilton.

This text book, on the other hand... he’s somehow managed to drop it onto his own face three separate times in the last thirty seconds.

“Alexander?”

He humphs out a grunt in reply as the sound of his own name wakes him, yet again, face aching where the evil text of doom has crushed him. He sniffles, chokes on a trickle of copper tangand winces.

“Great, just fucking great,” he grumbles as someone pulls the book off of him.

The overhead fluorescent lights in the library blind him momentarily, and then Dean Washington comes into focus.

“Son, you’re bleeding,” he tsks. Like Alex doesn’t know.

Alex swipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing blood across his skin, as he sits up on the library floor. “Sorry, sir,” he replies. “I will attempt to be more careful when I accidentally throw books in my own face.”

Washington presses his mouth into a thin line and hums thoughtfully. “At the very least, think of the books. They deserve better.”

Alex blinks at the small hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Washington’s mouth. He blinks and he yawns and Washington shifts on his feet.

“You should head home,” he says.

There’s something soft in his expression. Something forbidden. It tugs at Alex’s heartstrings and he finds himself nodding, acquiescing, even as another drop of blood slides down to his lip.

“Here,” Washington says, hushed, as he passes over his handkerchief.

Alex glances around the room, completely unsubtle in his state of confusion and exhaustion. Considering it’s midterms week, there are relatively few people left in the library. Alex realizes for the first time how late it must be. How he must’ve lost more time dozing than he imagined. He wonders, for a brief second, if he could have missed the test completely.

“Come on,” Washington says, scrutinizing him. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

It’s not an offer but a command. One Alex doesn’t have the faculties to refuse at the moment. Instead, he stands, gathers everything into his too-heavy backpack, and shuffles out behind Washington. They spend the car ride in silence, the low hum of smooth jazz floating over the speaker system, wrapping around them like a warm blanket as the streetlights and neon store signs bathe them in a kaleidoscope of colorful lights. When they pull up in front of Washington’s home, key open the security gate and pull into the drive, Alex just shrugs and goes with the flow.

He drops his stuff by the door, in the place he’s come to think of as _his spot_ \- the place his shoes and bag always stay when he’s here. The place his shoes and bag have resided more often than not lately.

Washington – _George_ , he reminds himself, _he’s George at home_ \- heads into the kitchen and Alex follows. He begins clumsily unbuttoning his wrinkled flannel.

“I don’t know how good I’ll be tonight, to be honest,” Alex says, “but if you don’t mind doing, like, all of the work, I’m down…”

George’s hand, wide and warm, stalls his fumbling fingers, and Alex looks up, as shocked as he can be considering how exhausted he feels. George looks at him, fond despite his exasperation, and Alex blushes at the warmth that blooms in his chest.

“I didn’t bring you home to debauch you tonight, my boy,” George says. _Home_. Alex realizes, not for the first time, that they both call George’s house home. He can’t remember when that started. He can’t let himself think too hard about it yet.

Before Alex can speak again George breaks eye contact and steps around the kitchen counter. He grabs a cloth, runs some water over it, wrings it out in the sink, and approaches Alex again. He wipes at Alex’s face, touch tender as he cleans away the dried evidence that Alex very recently got into a fight with a book and lost.

“When is the last time you slept?” George asks, voice low. Alex shivers.

“Honestly?” he asks.

“I always want honesty, Alexander,” George says, mildly chiding.

Alex grins, a little goofily, before replying, “I can’t exactly remember?”

George huffs out a little displeased sounding grunt at that. “Come on,” he says, tossing the cloth into the sink, and leading Alex toward the master suite.

Despite the fact that Alex would ordinarily be protesting, saying he needs to go study some more, he allows himself to be lead. He knows, intimately, just how comfortable the bed waiting for him is. He knows just how hard it usually is for him to sleep, anywhere other than here, and he knows just how badly he needs to sleep, how bone-weary he feels. He’s looking forward to unconsciousness, honestly. Midterm be damned. He’s smarter than half the class anyway. He’ll write something sufficient, he’s sure.

He enters the bedroom, George’s hand at the small of his back, and just as he’s psyching himself up for the awesome feel of plush sheets and memory foam, George steers him away from the bed in the direction of the en suite bathroom.

“Strip,” he commands.

Alex begins to do as he’s told before his brain can catch up to the fact that he’s apparently not sleeping yet. “Wha…”

“Eloquent as always, Alexander,” George teases, stripping out of his own clothes in a far more coordinated fashion.

“I thought no debauching?” Alex manages to say.

George nods. “That’s correct.”

“No bed?” Alex honest to God _whines_ that question, too far-gone to feel any shame for it.

George chuckles. “Soon,” he promises, reaching out to tug on Alex’s limp, lank hair. “You need a shower first.”

And. Okay. That’s actually completely fair. Now that he’s thinking about it, Alex has no idea when he last showered. Unsurprising since he can’t remember when he last slept either. (He thinks he at least ate today? He’s pretty sure Eliza brought him a sandwich a few hours ago and refused to let him have his book back until he ate all of it. That could’ve been yesterday, though. He really isn’t very sure. Of anything. Not now.)

“I’m pretty rank, huh?” he asks, feeling oddly defeated.

“Yeah, baby,” George assures him, voice somehow still brimming with fondness, “You really are.”

Alex laughs, bright and manic, as he’s pulled under the warm spray of the tripped out, rainfall shower system. His laughter dies down as George gets to it, methodically cleaning him from head to toe. He washes his hair, then the rest of Alex’s body, with gentle precision before getting more shampoo in his hand and lathering up Alex’s hair again. This time, he takes his time, massaging Alex’s scalp until Alex melts against him, hardly able to stand upright on his own. He rinses the long strands thoroughly before coating his palms with conditioner. He runs his fingers through Alex’s clean, wet hair, detangling knots gently as he works the product in. The familiar scent of Argan oil, that scent Alex has grown to associate with George, only makes him relax further, leaning more heavily against George’s chest.

“Shhh,” George hushes him and Alex realizes he’s making noises, trying to say something he can’t put into words in the state he’s worked himself into. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Alex quiets at the promise in George’s tone, nuzzles closer to his chest, so impossibly close, and sighs. Whatever happens – whether Alex aces his midterms, bombs them, gets kicked out of law school mid-year, or makes the goddamn Dean’s list – he knows George means what he says. He definitely has him. He’s always had him. He couldn’t get rid of him if he tried. Alex isn’t sure when it happened, but he knows, sleep hazy and too tired to lie to himself or deny the truth of it, that knowing this, knowing George, is enough for him. No matter what happens, it’s more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [If anyone else wants to leave me a non-sexual intimacy prompt, click the link above. :-)]


End file.
